


Hard Way

by Lassenby



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Cryptids, Dreamscapes, Gen, Unlikely duo, and more silly, human bodies are such a pain, idk - Freeform, it takes a dark turn though, think the Girl who Loved Tom Gordon but with 2 assholes instead of a kid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-21
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-22 05:52:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13757661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lassenby/pseuds/Lassenby
Summary: (HIATUS, possibly permanent) (post-canon) Bill is back. Stan doesn't know how; all he knows is that the demon has somehow stolen Dipper's body and gone into the forest on some mysterious mission. In trying to stop him, they both get knocked out and carried miles downriver, waking up later to find themselves deep in unfamiliar wilderness. With Bill refusing--or unable--to leave Dipper's body, their only shot at getting back to civilization is to work together.





	1. Expensive Mistake

Stanley Pines slumped into the Mystery Shack and shut the door behind him. There were dark circles under his eyes as he shuffled over to a chair beside the counter and sank into it with a weary sigh.

“Whoah. Are you okay, dude?” Soos asked, pausing in his sweeping.

“Of course I’m not okay.” Stan rubbed a shaky hand through his hair. “He hasn’t been back here in three days. There must be something wrong. The kid always gets into nerdy stuff and loses track of time, sure, but this is different. He wouldn’t scare us like this. What if we don’t find him? What the hell am I going to tell his parents?”

Ford was still out searching the woods while Mabel questioned people in town. Stan had come back to the Shack to check, in the vain hope, that he would run into Dipper on the way. But he hadn’t found him.

“He could be hurt. Or worse!” Stan said, pounding the counter with frustration.

“Don’t think that way,” Soos said. “I'm sure he's just fine."

“I should have asked where he was going. If I’d known the last time I saw him could be the last time ever, I wouldn’t have made him use his freakishly scrawny arms to fish that hairball out of the sink. I would have told him how much I care about him, and made him a sandwich, or something. I don’t know." Stan groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Where are you, Dipper?”

“Oh, you’re looking for Dipper? I saw him, like, an hour ago.”

The chair crashed backward as Stan leaped up. He grabbed Soos by the front of his shirt and shook him. “Who did you THINK we were looking for?”

“I thought Waddles got out.”

Stan pointed to the pig, larger than most dogs now that he was fully grown, curled up asleep in the corner. “Waddles?” he asked incredulously. “That’s who you thought we’ve been searching day and night for?”

“Hey, look at that! You found him.”

“He was never lost, you-!” A vein throbbed in Stan’s neck. He looked ready to explode, but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “That’s not important right now.”

Yelling up the stairs, Stan called; “Hey, kid! Get your butt down here so I can ground you for life!”

“He’s not here,” Soos said. “He went back out right after I saw him.”

Stan’s shoulders sagged. “Damn it. How did he look? Did he tell you where he’s been?”

Soos rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, he was acting kind of weird. He asked if I was surprised to see him, and I was like, nah, I see you pretty much every day. I guess he thought that was funny, because he laughed, but his laugh was all creepy. It didn’t sound like him, you know?”

A chill was creeping up Stan’s spine as he listened, his frown deepening with each word. “Did he say where he was going?”

“Nope. He grabbed a handful of those things, though.” Soos pointed to the jar on the counter, which was noticeably more empty than usual.

Stan’s eyebrows furrowed. “The eyeballs?”

“Yeah! He ate one of them, and it made this crazy noise while he was chewing.” Without warning, Soos let out a horrible, high-pitched squeal that scared Waddles awake and sent him racing, skidding out of the room. “It sounded like that. I didn’t even know those things were snacks. Anyway, he shoved the rest into his pocket, for the road, he said, and he asked me if any of the hiking trails around here go by the Lodge. I don’t know why he’d want to go there, but I told him the only way is the old Granger path.”

Stan whirled around before Soos had even finished the sentence. On his way to the front door, he grabbed a pamphlet from the rack- a tourist’s guide to Gravity Falls containing a map of the local hiking trails.

“Uh, there was one more thing,” Soos called, and Stan stopped in the doorway. “He kept calling me Question Mark. That’s what Bill used to call me, but that doesn’t mean anything, right? We got rid of that weirdo for good.”

So, the creeping paranoia that Stan felt wasn’t paranoia at all. Bill was back, and somehow in control of Dipper's body.

“That’s what I thought, too,” Stan replied without turning around. Then he was gone, the door banging shut behind him.

 

* * *

 

The Granger trail began just a quarter-mile south of the Mystery Shack.

Mabel had taken the cart into town, which meant that Dipper would be on foot. Stan would have to hoof it after him. For a man in his early seventies running on two hours of sleep, he made good time, practically jogging along the narrow, meandering path marked by dirt scuffed bare by the boots of past hikers.

Stan was huffing and puffing like an out of shape wolf by the time he heard Ploom river gurgling up ahead. He rounded the corner, and the Ploom shimmered into view ahead of him.

A footbridge spanned across the river, wooden planks with waist high guard-rails. And walking across, with his back to Stan, was Dipper.

Stan tried to call out, but at first only wheezed. He tried again. “Hey!”

Dipper turned around. In a heart-sinking instant, Stan’s fears were confirmed. That cheshire cat’s grin wasn’t Dippers, and neither were the eyes. Catlike slits stared out from an evil yellow glow.

“Well, look who it is! When you weren’t at the Shack, I thought we missed our chance to catch up. Guess I shouldn’t have worried.”

“You bastard!” Stan rushed to where Bill stood and lifted him off the ground by two fistfuls of shirt. Two summers ago it would have been an easier feat, but at fifteen, Dipper was just lanky enough to still be lifted.

“Easy there, Fez. You wouldn’t hurt your own nephew, would you?”

“Get out of him,” Stan growled. “Now.”

“You know I can’t possess anyone who doesn’t invite me in.”

Stan shook his head. “Dipper would never trust you, not after everything you did. You must have tricked him.”

“Gee, you don’t have much faith in Pine Tree, do you? Anyway, it’s not permanent, so you can go ahead and set me down now.”

Stan didn’t.

“Listen, Fez, I’m just borrowing this meat puppet for the afternoon. Once I’ve finished this one little errand, I’ll give it right back.”

“Nope, no way. You’re not doing anything in my nephew’s body. We can do this the easy way, which means you clear out of there right now, or we can do it the hard way.”

“Do those dumbo flaps you call ears  work for anything besides growing hair? I told you, I can't leave this vessel yet.”

“Fine,” Stan snapped. “That hard way it is. I’m sure Ford remembers how to exorcise you.”

He shifted his grip to tuck Bill under his arm. He began to wrestle him back down to path, but before he could take a step, Bill bit down hard on the inside of his arm.

“Argh!” Stan staggered. His back slammed against the guardrail, and the wood splintered with a booming crack.

His weight carried him straight through. He dropped Bill, but it was too late. They both hit the water with an icy splash.

Stan twisted like a cat underwater, found his feet against the silty bottom and kicked hard. He shot upward and burst through the surface. Looking around, he saw that he’d been carried a few yards downriver from the bridge. The current wasn’t very strong, and he paddled easily toward the shore.

“AHHHHHH-” Bill’s desperate shout turned into a gurgle. He was thrashing, bobbing to the surface only to be pulled back under within seconds.

Bill couldn’t swim, apparently; but it was Dipper’s lungs that would fill with water, his body pummeled against the rocks.

“Goddammit,” Stan growled. Arm over arm, he swam purposefully back into the deeper part of Ploom, arrowing toward the drowning kid.

By the time he caught up, the current had grown stronger. A dangerous riptide jerked them along. Trees whisked past in a blur as Stan grabbed Bill by the arm and yanked him up out of the water.

His yellow eyes were spotlights, wide with panic. He gasped wetly, kicking and flailing.

“Knock it off, you idiot! I’m trying to save you,” Stan barked, just before Bill’s elbow crunched against his nose.

He saw stars. Hot blood coated his lip as he was sucked down beneath the freezing water. It took longer to get his bearings this time, and his lungs were screaming by the time he punched through the surface.

The current had wrenched Bill further along down the river. Stan could see only the back of his head, a familiar mop of brown hair bobbing along. Then he vanished. Too late, Stan recognized the thunder of a waterfall. He opened his mouth to yell, ‘Kid!’ but he slammed against a rock and spun back underwater, so the word came out as an explosion of bubbles.

He fell, with a thousand pounds of water falling down on top of him. It smashed him against the rocks at the base of the waterfall and drove the air out of his lungs.

Tumbling, spinning, Stan was too dazed to fight his way out of the river’s powerful riptide. The world was a whorl of dizzying violence, a sucking black vortex that went on forever. His head smacked against a rock, knocking him out cold.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this is ok so far! This is my first Gravity Falls fic, and also my first time writing a non-ship fic. :'D I'll try to update a couple times a week, probably Wednesdays and Sundays. Thank you for reading!


	2. The First Leg

Stan woke with a jolt. He squinted into the bright sunlight, the gauzy outlines of trees ruffling overhead. Reflexively, he reached for his glasses on his bedside table, but his fingers found only slick river rocks.

His whole body sung with pain as he scrambled up. In his twilight years, just rolling out of bed was bad. Now he was bruised and scraped all to hell, and his head throbbed with every heartbeat.

“Dipper! Kid, where are you?” Stan called, looking around.

Nobody answered, but Stan spotted a flash of artificial blue peeking up behind a log that was wedged halfway across the river. He hurried over to investigate.

Dipper was laying half in the river, his eyes closed. His vest was caught on a tree branch, which kept him from being washed further downstream.

Stan’s stomach flipped when he saw him. Equal parts dread and hope surged up, forcing a lump in his throat. He dropped down beside Dipper’s body, heedless of the pain that struck through his knees.

He scooped up Dipper and shook him. “Come on, kid. Wake up.” He bent to press his ear against the kid’s chest, trying to hear if he was breathing.

But just then, Dipper sputtered, coughed a few times and sucked in a ragged breath.

“You scared the hell out of me,” Stan said, failing to sound as stern as he meant to. Relief made him woozy. “How'd you let yourself get possessed by Bill again? Did he trick you?”

“Boy, I sure feel like a dummy, Grunkle Stan! That Bill Cipher is just too clever. I was no match for his incredible wit and charisma.”

“Bill,” Stan growled.

“Hahahahaha! In the flesh. In Pine Tree's flesh, that is.”

Stan dropped him unceremoniously. Bill hit the water with a splash, his laugh turning into an indignant splutter.

When Stan stood up and looked around, his heart sunk. Wherever they were, they’d been carried a long way downstream. He didn’t recognise any landmarks. They might not even be in Gravity Falls anymore.

He’d told Bill they could do this the easy way or the hard way. Bill had chosen the hard way.

“The very hard way,” Stan grumbled.

He pulled the pamphlet out of his pocket. It was soggy, but intact. The ink on the front panel had spread so much that it had become illegible. Stan carefully peeled the pamphlet apart and found that the map, though splotchy in some places, was still clear enough. Not that he would need a map, as long as he kept the river in sight.

“I’m new to this whole ‘human body’ thing. Is it normal for every single part of it to hurt?”

“Only when you’ve been washed miles down a river and half drowned.”

Bill groaned as he got up. “Huh. Pain seems less hilarious than I remember.”

“If having a body is so bad, why don’t you just float away? Go back to being a weird spectral triangle in a top-hat? If I’ve got to hike home, I’d rather have Dipper along than you.”

“It doesn’t work that way. Pine Tree’s consciousness is waiting for me back at the Mystery Shack. I was going to bring it back when I was done.”

Stan shook his head. “I still don’t believe Dipper would make a deal with you.”

“Too bad you have no choice, then.” Bill picked his nose and nonchalantly flicked a booger away. “Humans have so many holes, it’s disgusting! I love it.”

“Leave my nephew’s holes alone,” Stan warned. He stuffed the soggy map back into his pocket. “Alright, let’s get moving. We can follow the river back to the bridge.”

Bill slapped his forehead. “That’s right! I forgot the rivers in this dimension always flow in one direction. Boring, just like everything else in this sad little world. You really should have let me finish remodeling.”

Stan started off along the shore without looking back to see if Bill was following. Soon he heard footsteps, sneakers slapping against the stones and growing louder quickly. Suddenly overcome by the idea that the little creep had found a weapon and was running to plunge it into his back, Stan whirled around, hands raised defensively.

Though he stood practically on Stan’s heels, Bill was empty-handed. He laughed when he saw the expression on Stan’s face. “I don’t know why you look so scared, considering you’re the one who tried to murder me.”

“Yeah, I'd really hoped that would stick.”

“And I was hoping that you’d blasted your brains out, leaving you a husk devoid of memories or personality! But I guess neither of us got what we wanted.”

The shore became narrower as the ridge alongside them grew steeper. Soon they walked single file along a strip of pebbles until even that ran out. They would either have to wade through the shallows, balancing on slippery river rocks, or climb up the slope.

A net of exposed tree roots criss-crossed through the dirt wall. Stan scrambled up, using the roots as hand and footholds. He had a better view of when he got to the top. The Ploom slithered along below, gleaming silver in the sunlight. The horizon bristled with pines as far as he could see.

Nothing looked familiar. Though he couldn’t see what lay to the north, in the direction they’d come, because the forest blocked his view. They must have gone beyond the Pass, which meant they wouldn’t make it back to the Shack before nightfall.

Grunting and sweating, Bill finally neared the top of the ridge. He slipped, sliding backward down the slope.

With one hand braced around the tree, Stan lurched forward and caught Bill around the wrist. He hauled him up to stand on solid ground.

“Wow, Stanley! I didn’t know you cared.”

“Let’s get something straight.” Stan grabbed Bill by the collar of his shirt with both hands. “You’ve possessed my nephew, tried to kill my family, and nearly caused the end of the world. If it were just you, I would have let you fall. I might even give you a push.”

For emphasis, Stan held Bill at arm’s length so he was hanging over, his feet barely scraping the edge.

“You won’t,” Bill said, confident for someone dangling over a twelve foot drop. “Not while I’m in Pine Tree’s body. If you drop me, this fragile human body might die. That would be pretty hard to explain that to your family!”

“You’re right. While we’re out here, I won’t let anything happen to you. On one condition. You’re gonna forget about whatever deal you think you had with Dipper. When we get to the Mystery Shack, you’re going to give back his body.”

“And why would I do that?” Bill smirked.

“You’re weak in this form. You couldn’t even swim, and the forest can be an unpleasant place for a...what’d you call it? A fragile human body? I won’t let you get seriously hurt, but I don’t have to treat you like a princess, either. This trip could be hard for you. Or I could help you out.” Stan pulled Bill back onto solid ground, stood him upright and slapped him on the shoulder. “Tit for tat. What do you say?”

“Ha! I’ll take my chances.” Bill turned away and continued to follow the river north. He waded through the underbrush, marching with high, determined steps.

“Suit yourself,” Stan said with a shrug.

Maybe if Bill had been ammenable, Stan would have warned him about the poison oak he was stomping through. But he could find that out for himself.

 

* * *

 

“I spy with my all-seeing eye...something bushy.”

“A tree,” Stan said without enthusiasm.

“Nope! Guess again.”

“A squirrel.”

“There’s no squirrel. You’re not even trying!”

“I give up.”

“It’s your nose hairs!” Bill cackled.

I-spy was only the most recent torture in a long string of annoyances Bill had bombarded Stan with throughout the afternoon. Soon they would have to stop for the night. The sky burned down to red embers over the jagged, sawed hem of the horizon. The first stars were beginning to come out overhead.

“We’d better make a fire,” Stan said. “Someone might spot it if they’re flying over.”

Not that anyone would be looking for them. Stan had only been missing for a day. Nobody would consider him lost until the next night, and hopefully he would be back home before then.

It took the better part of an hour to get a fire started. Stan’s Boy Scouts days were long behind him, and his skills were rusty. But eventually they had a decent campfire crackling inside a circle of stones.

Stan sat on a log, leaning forward to warm his hands, while Bill sat across the fire from him on the ground. Bill had his pants legs hitched up to just below the knee and he scratched his ankles constantly. In the firelight, Stan could see the shiny red patches.

“What the hell is wrong with this kid’s body?” Bill asked, glaring at his legs.

“What do you mean?” Stan asked innocently.

“It’s itchy! Are humans always this itchy?” Bill asked, savagely clawing the rash with both hands.

Stan shrugged. “In my experience, yeah.”

Over the shrill serenade of bugs and the campfire’s crackle, Stan could still hear Bill scratching. Ragged nails raked too hard against skin.

“Fine, let me take a look,” Stan said. His hips popped painfully as he stood up, his back protesting as he squatted beside Bill.

“Oh, god!’ Stan cried, pretending to recoil from the sight. “I’ve seen this before. Oh man, this is bad. This is really bad. That leg is done for.”

“Done for?”

“I’m gonna have to cut it off,” Stan said, as grim-faced as he could manage. “If we don’t, the infection will spread, all your skin will rot off...it’s a real mess. You don’t have a knife or a saw, something like that, do you?”

“You're crazy, old man!” Bill squeaked.

“It’s too bad this happened out here where we don’t have the right tools. I’ll try to find a heavy rock. If I can break the bone, that’s the hard part. After that I can saw through all the muscle and skin with a sharp edge…” Stan doubled over with laughter. “You should see your face!”

Bill sprang to his feet. “You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you?”

Stan wiped tears from his eyes. “I really had you going.”

“I didn’t believe you for a second.”

“You look pretty pale for a guy who didn’t think his leg was going to be hacked off.” Stan barked a laugh. “Sorry, I was just thinking about it! I thought you were going to pass out.”

“Humans need to sleep, right? Why don’t you go do that,” Bill snapped.

Bill sulked off to the edge of the firelight, dropped and curled up on the ground, facing away from Stan.

“Don’t scratch it,” Stan called after him. “That just makes it worse.”

It gave Stan a weird dissonance to see Bill like that, shivering in a short sleeved shirt. He looked just like Dipper from behind. But if Stan gave into the impulse to go over there and drop his jacket on the kid, he’d be subjected to a snarky retort from the murderous, conniving demon who’d ‘borrowed’ Dipper’s body.

So Stan resisted the urge. Instead, he stretched out on his back on the ground, close enough to the fire for its warmth to wash over his old bones.

His stomach snarled sullenly, and he patted it. He hoped they’d reach the Shack by tomorrow night. If they didn’t, he would have to find something for them to eat. And they'd have to risk drinking from the river even sooner.

He glanced over at the huddled shape of his nephew, and a powerful ache seized his chest. Dipper was a smart kid. He would have some good ideas about all this. Maybe he’d know some nerd way of filtering water, or testing if it was contaminated.

But Dipper wasn’t around. He was so close, but impossibly far away.

Stan sighed. With so many concerns weighing heavily on his mind, he thought he’d never fall asleep. That was his last thought before he dropped like a stone into unconsciousness.

 


	3. Dreamscape

The deck swayed under Stan’s feet. With a salty breeze ruffling his hair and the Stan-o-War's familiar creaking in his ears, he felt at peace. What had he been so stressed out about before? He crossed the deck to the side of the boat and looked out at the rough chop, white spray breaking off blue-black waves. The sea stretched out forever on all sides.

When he turned around, he was dismayed to see that someone had taken his seat.

“Nice place you got here, Fez!”

Stan stormed past the heaps of pirate’s treasure littering the deck. Among the objects was a giant gold star sticking out of the planks by one point, engraved with the words ‘You’re a star!’, and an oil portrait of Soos with an ‘Employee of the year’ plaque on the frame. Scattered coins piled into hills around the recliner from the Mystery Shack.

And there, sitting in Stan’s buttprint, was Bill. He was back to being a triangle, and he regarded Stan with one eye that somehow conveyed malevolent glee.

“Why are you here?” Stan demanded.

“I thought you'd be lonely without me.”

Stan crossed his arms and glared at Bill.

“The truth is, I had to get out of that body for awhile.” Bill visibly shuddered. “The kid is so sweaty and awkward! That can’t be normal.”

“I’m not having ‘the talk’ with the demon who possessed my nephew. And you’re in my seat.” Stan lifted Bill by his hat and dropped him on the ground.

Bill floated up, brushed himself off and straightened his bowtie, favoring Stan with an indignant glare. “Your brother used to be much more accomodating when I visited his dreamscape.”

“My brother is an idiot.” Stan grunted as he dropped into his chair and stretched out with a sigh.

After glancing around, Bill swooped over the the gold star. His reflection contorted, breaking his sides into new shapes and bulging his eye. He flicked the polished surface.

“You’ve redecorated,” he accused.

“Rebuilt from the ground up, actually,” Stan said. “I lost all my memories, remember?”

“Oh, boo hoo. At least you found them again.”

Stan didn’t correct him. It would only make himself seem pathetic to explain how he sometimes woke up with no idea who, or where, he was. On those mornings, he'd stumble around the Stan o’ War until he found Ford, and usually then it would all come back, but sometimes it didn’t- on those days Ford would see the confusion all over Stan’s face and look so pitying, so worried and guilty.

Other times, Stan discovered gaps in his memory. He’d prod the missing section like a chipped tooth, unable to leave it alone. How much had he lost? There was no way to know the full extent of the damage.

“Want to know what happened to ME after your little stunt?” Bill asked.

“Nope.”

“You couldn’t trap me in your mind- Not really. I’m everywhere, spread out all across the cosmos!”

Bill threw his arms out and spun around, his two-dimensional form disappearing from view each time he turned sideways. After a few rotations, he didn’t come back. Stan looked around.

A thousand yellow eyes blinked open.

“I’m always watching,” Bill boomed. His voice was deep and distorted, coming from every direction. “When you destroyed my central consciousness, the scattered pieces of myself were left behind.”

The eyes closed and were gone.

A touch made Stan jump. Bill was suddenly perched on Stan’s shoulder, an elbow propped on the top of his head. Stan tried to punch him, but the demon winked out before before his fist could connect. The momentum nearly pitched him out of his chair.

Stan leaped up, glaring around as Bill’s cackle filled the world.

“I’ve gotta hand it to you, Stanley. You did a real number on me. It took nearly two years to pull myself back together.”

Bill reappeared nearby. “In my scattered state, I thought I was the ocean, the dirt and the sky. I thought I was every tree in existence. Can you believe that? Trees! Sucking up carbon dioxide, turning it into oxygen...why is everything in your dimension so mind-numbingly dull?”

“Sorry our trees ain't up to your standards, oh mighty edgelord,” Stan said, rolling his eyes.

“You should be. I come here and try and do a favor for you small-minded hicks, spice things up a little, and your thanks is to murder me?”

“You tried to murder my family!”

“Blah, blah, blah about your family! I get it! You share genetic code with some other humans. That’s not as special or important as you think.” Bill glared. “It's just like I used to tell Sixer: Your attachments make you weak. It's what got you stranded out here.”

“It's also why you spent two years thinking you were the dirt,” Stan said calmly. “If my family’s not important or special, how did we beat you?”

“YOU…!” Bill grew huge, his eye turning into a furious red moon that loomed over Stan, who didn’t flinch as the demon’s voice cracked like thunder around him. “You puny, insignificant little-”

A sudden shout interrupted Bill’s tantrum.

Stan recognised the voice. He ran over to the side, gripped the rail and leaned out to search the sea.

Dipper was treading water. Stan saw a flash of the kid’s wide, terrified eyes before a wave swallowed him up. Quickly, Stan kicked off his shoes and clambered up onto the side of the boat.

“This is just a dream, genius!” Bill said from behind him. “I guess your feelings for your family are making you weak AND stupid!”

Stan hit the water before he could hear the end of Bill’s mockery. Cold froze the energy out of his muscles in an instant, made his lungs seize and his heart skip. But he powered forward, focused on where he’d seen Dipper go under.

A wopping sound filled the air. Waves broke backward, disturbed by a new force. Stan looked up.

A helicopter with a sweeping searchlight hovered overhead. Soos leaned out the side. When he saw Stan looking, he gave a thumbs up. Mable stood behind him, clutching his shirt, her hair tossed wildly.

“We got you, dude!” Soos yelled over the helicopter's roar. “Just grab Dipper!”

Dipper bobbed up, gasping before another wave dragged him back down. Stan redoubled his efforts, pulling himself forward, arm over arm, and soon reached the spot where Dipper had disappeared.

His arms found the kid under water and hefted him up. But when Stan looked into Dipper’s eyes, they were vacant. Lifeless.

Stan nearly dropped him when he saw that blank stare. There was nobody home behind those eyes.

The searchlight fell over them. It was blindingly bright, and Stan threw up one arm to shield his eyes. He squinted up and saw it wasn't a searchlight.

An enormous, slit-pupiled eye stared back at him, pinning him beneath its terrible yellow glare.

The helicopter’s wop-wop-wop was gone, transformed into a monstrous laugh. Bill’s warped, distorted cackle boomed loud enough to shake the world. Stan cried out...

And woke up.


End file.
